


Breathe In, Breathe Out

by Control_Room, Random_ag



Series: Tortured Tales [14]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Changelings, Chemical Pneumonia, Choking, Demons, Description of physical pain, Fae & Fairies, Fire Hazards, Gen, comic/good ending, fire/burning imagery, smoke coming from mouth/nose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:43:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27678935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: All Willy wanted to do was make cinnamon buns.
Series: Tortured Tales [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023520





	Breathe In, Breathe Out

‘Hey. Hey Wills. Willy. Wilbur.’

He ignored him. 

‘Wills. Will. Willy. Wilbur. Wilbur. Willy, ol’ friend ol’ pal.’

“I’m busy.” Willy snapped at him, carefully mixing the cinnamon into the flakey dough for the buns. “Can’t this wait a while?” 

‘Nah. Willy. Wills. Listen to me. Willy. Willbureeno.’ 

He began counting as he kneaded, forcing another voice in his mind to drown out the obnoxiously annoying sound of his mirror image.

‘Wills. Come on. Give me a sec. I gotta do somethin’.’

“No, I’m trying to bake.”

‘Willy.’

“No!” 

With that last syllable, Willy suddenly choked.

His neck constricted tightly, blocking all air from entering his body, and he fell to his knees. His lungs burned as though someone spilled straight alcohol directly onto the porous tissue and forced it to widen more than it could handle without tearing. He gasped in air, yet it burned all the more; holding his breath made it ache harder. He could see Mirror in the reflective metal of the oven, staring at him without his usual smile, but with a claw rippling out of the side of his chest. Willy, still hacking, looked at the place on his own body with wet eyes, noting it as the direct source of the pain. 

“M-Mirror--”

He coughed, tasting ash. It felt and looked like Mirror was him burning from the inside out. Thin curls of smoke trickled from his nose and mouth towards the ceiling like disturbed serpents crawling away from a larger predator - like ominous worms on a string foreboding an omen of ill fortune. 

“M’rr’r--” 

He collapsed to the floor, dark steam still ebbing out from his maw and nostrils, avidly burning every inch of his delicate inner layer of skin. That was when he saw it. 

The gas line. 

Unable to talk, he pointed at it. 

He inhaled sharply as the pain vanished. 

‘Told ya it wasn’t something that could wait.’ Mirror reminded him.

Willy groaned and pushed himself off the floor, Mirror trailing after him as he made his way to Shawn’s shed where he kept his tools. The toolbelt he had bought for him swayed, polished, on the inner door handle. He swore under his breath when he could not find the welder, and it turned on ‘by itself’, making him shriek and rush to turn it off. 

Mirror gave a cackle from a corner of the shed’s roof.

“Can’t ya ever help like a normal person?!” Willy shouted, red in the face from that burst of anger. “Why do ya have to try and set me on fire, inside and out!?”

‘It’s not fun that way,’ Mirror sniffed. ‘Would you have rather a bigger disaster than a lil’ poof from your lungs?” 

“Damn you,” Willy grumbled. He set himself to fixing the gas line, and he finished much later than he would have hoped. 

Still, the wonderful scent of cinnamon buns filled his nose, a gentle bandaid to the earlier pain.

He groaned, shaking his head with a smile. 


End file.
